Page 2 of Paid for By the Bratva

This is it—the life I've always wanted, if only for one night. I'm in Philadelphia City at last—the food, the music, the parties. Ready to discover all its wild, forbidden delights.

***

I wander the streets, dazzled by the lights and sounds. Everywhere, people are laughing, dancing, and living life to the fullest. No one cares who I am or where I've come from. Here, I can be anyone.

On a whim, I duck into a crowded jazz club. Thick cigar smoke and the wail of a trumpet fill the air. I claim an empty seat at the bar and order my first-ever cocktail, a Manhattan.

The liquor burns down my throat, firing my blood. I tap my foot to the music, watching the patrons move together on thedance floor. A group of girls catch my eye and notice I’m alone. They rush over, all charm and excitement.

"Care for a dance?" One of the girls grasps my hand. Caught up in their excitement, I throw caution to the wind.

"Why not?" Laughing, they rush me to the floor. We sway to the music and have a round of shots. I'm dizzy with the thrill of it, of being alive and free and wanted.

When the song ends, they ask, "Like to continue the party elsewhere?"

I refuse, knowing I should return home before I'm missed. They give me their phone numbers and ask me to join them again next Friday. I accept.

I take a cab back, staring at the dazzling lights. The city feels like my oyster, and I intend to savor every pearl.

***

The neon lights of the city dance across my face as I step onto the crowded sidewalk the next night, each color painting a new layer of excitement onto my skin. After last night, I’m hooked on this city.

"Hey, gorgeous! Want a drink?" a man calls out, his grin wide and inviting. I shake my head, feeling a strange mix of nervousness and exhilaration at the attention. It's so different from my life back home, where every interaction felt stifling and controlled.

As I weave through the bustling crowd, I marvel at the countless faces around me—people from every walk of life, each with their own story to tell. I can feel it in the air, an electric current of possibilities that sets my heart racing.

"A margarita, please," I say to the bartender at a buzzing rooftop bar, feeling oddly empowered by the simple act of ordering a drink on my own. With a nod, he slides the glasses toward me, and I take a cautious sip, savoring the tangy sweetness on my tongue.

"I noticed your accent. First time in the city?" a woman next to me asks, her eyes sparkling with mischief. I nod, suddenly finding myself engaged in conversation with a stranger, something I’ve never done before but am learning to enjoy.

"Welcome to the jungle," she laughs, raising her glass in a toast. "You're gonna love it here. Where are you from?"

We chat for what feels like hours, exchanging stories and laughter as the city lights shimmer below us.

"Hey, why don't you come with us?" the woman suggests, gesturing to her group of friends. "There's this amazing underground club we're heading to. You don't want to miss it."

"Sure," I agree without hesitation, my pulse quickening at the prospect of yet another adventure.

***

Over the next few weeks, I continue to explore the city's nightlife, often joining some of the girls I’d met on previous nights. From exclusive rooftop lounges to hidden speakeasies, I find myself drawn to the pulsating energy of these places like a moth to a flame. My days are spent anticipating the sun setting, and my nights are spent chasing the dawn—a delicious secret that remains mine alone.

"Here's to another unforgettable night," I whisper to myself as I step into yet another dimly lit bar, the music washing over me like a tidal wave. I lose myself in it, letting the rhythm carry me away.

"Hey, you look like you're enjoying yourself!" a voice calls out. I turn to see a tall man with dark hair and enticing eyes. There's something magnetic about him, and I can't help but feel drawn in.

"Can't help it," I reply, smiling. "The music is amazing."

"Mind if I join you?" he asks, already moving closer.

"Sure, why not?" I say, trying to play it cool.

***

My head is pounding. I slowly open my eyes, squinting at the bright sunlight streaming through the windows. For a moment, I'm disoriented, unsure of why I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.

Then it all comes rushing back—the club, the drinks, that man buying me multiple rounds of shots. My stomach churns, and I have to take deep breaths to avoid being sick. What the hell happened last night?

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